Chapter Fifty-Two
"You look…relieved," Jess points out as they step out the front door and head down the long driveway. Agent Hemsley is leaning against Jess's car, watching them approach.
"I am relieved." Rory wraps her arm around Jess's waist, tugging him closer as they walk. "I was right, Colin and Finn never did call Honor. But now that she knows, she's going to Paris to try and get him to come home and if she can't manage it, the FBI finally decided to go ahead and extradite him. This could all be over really soon."
"Honor's going?"
The wind picks up, blowing Rory's scarf and she turns, grasping the end that's fluttering in the breeze
"Why wouldn't she?"
Jess throws a glance at Agent Hemsley, standing a few feet away. Grasping the end of Rory's scarf, as if to help her, he leans close to her ear. "I'll tell you later."
"What?"
"I promise." He lets go of her scarf, tucking it back into her jacket. "Let's just get back to the psychiatric outpatient clinic that is Star's Hollow, okay?"
"Boy, you sound eager."
"As of this moment," he groans, "you're in charge of running interference with Liz."
"Your mom isn't that bad," she admonishes.
"You haven't seen her once she hits Patty's eggnog. There will be no survivors."
"That stuff is lethal," Rory concurs. "Hi Agent Hemlsey."
He nods, curtly. "Rory, Jess."
Brushing past him, Jess unlocks the car without a greeting. "We should get going," he says briskly, opening the driver's side door.
Hemsley rolls his eyes, climbing into the passenger seat behind Rory.
Later that night, after a mostly silent ride back to Star's Hollow, Rory leans back on the worn couch in Luke's old apartment, a small glass of wine cupped in her hands.
"I can't believe you talked to Gwen," she says with disbelief. "There's no way the FBI would've allowed that if they knew."
"Yeah I was kind of surprised they didn't realize what was happening and bust in." Jess arranges himself on the couch across from her, sipping his beer.
Rory leans towards him, entwining their legs. "What did she say? Is she…?"
"Is she what?"
"I don't know. I tried to bring up the fact she wasn't there but Honor and the FBI seemed really against it."
"Gwen said the same thing."
Rory rolls her eyes. "What exactly do they think is going to happen if we're in a room together?"
"Did you ever watch Ricki Lake?" he teases wryly.
Rory aims a gentle kick to the side of his leg. "I don't have a problem with her."
"Well I'm not saying you'd lose your shit over it but she did sleep with your boyfriend."
"Hence why he's now my ex-boyfriend," she points out.
"Okay point to Rory," he concedes.
Rory settles her back against his shoulder, toying with his free hand. "Look, I only met Gwen a handful of times and Logan and I were pretty rocky towards the end so…I have no idea if she even knew if we were still together. I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt but if she knew and she did it anyways well…I probably deserved the karma."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jess spits. "You're joking right?"
Rory shrugs. "I knew Dean was married and I didn't care. What kind of person does that?"
"A human one? You screwed up. You know that, I know that, but so fucking what? Everyone fucks up sometimes."
"Yes but I—"
He sets his beer on the table with a loud clink. "Dean was the one who was married."
"I was still an equal participant," she argues. "I knew what I did was wrong and I did it anyways and I know I have to answer for that."
"You did answer for that." Their fingers still entwined, he moves so he can look at her, holding her gaze intently. "Your actions had consequences and you dealt with them. This whole concept of 'what goes around, comes around' is a farce people use to make themselves feel better when justice isn't dispensed to their liking."
She arches an eyebrow, surprised at his cynicism. "You really believe that if you do something bad, it won't come back to haunt you?"
"It's not that I don't think actions have consequences. I just don't buy into this whole ethical causality myth. It's completely black and white thinking and the world is way more complicated than that."
"Maybe, but the other side, if you do good things, you put good energy out into the universe. It's a nice thought."
"It's a fairy tale."
Rory shakes her head with disbelief. "You are easily the least spiritual person I have ever met."
"Blame Liz. I spent seventeen years so overloaded with her hippy-dippy bullshit and I wound up going the complete opposite direction."
"But you love Franny and Zooey," she points out. "It's one of your favorite books."
"Yeah, cause it's an amazing work of literature. I'm not about to adapt it into practice. You loved the Autobiography of Malcolm X and I don't see you converting to Islam."
"But what about—"
"Rory." He lifts her wrist, planting a kiss over a freckle that lays smack dab in the middle of her pulse point. He doesn't really understand it but for some reason he loves that single, little freckle. "You can try all you want but you can't argue karmic causality with someone who doesn't believe in karma. It's like trying to explain climate change to President Bush."
"You do realize you just compared yourself to President Bush, right?" She teases wryly.
"It seemed like an apt analogy at the time but now I think I need a shower."
She laughs, undaunted by the strange turn in their conversation. "Can we get back on point please? What did Gwen say?"
He thinks for a second. "She knew you were there but she wanted to know why. I told her and she said she wants to go to Paris instead of Honor, if she can."
"She does?"
"Why does that surprise you?"
Rory shrugs. "I don't know. It just does. If I were her…I don't if I could do that. I mean he's basically abandoned her, it's almost Christmas and that's…shitty. Even for Logan."
"True but they have a kid. If nothing else, that's gotta mean something to her."
"You're right," she says softly. "That whole set is a big fan of the whole 'a child needs a mother and a father' concept. Grandma's leading the charge."
"Hey we turned out okay without it," he nudges her shoulder affectionately. "If you don't take the whole, serving time in juvie, not graduating high school, sleeping with married men, yacht-stealing infractions into account."
"Oh yeah, we're really functional adults," she jokes.
"Hey, we pay our taxes, neither of us have reproduced, we don't do or sell drugs, and you're a semester away from graduating an from Ivy League college. We could've turned out worse."
"That can be our campaign slogan for dinner on Friday when Grandma finally gets the co-habitation topic off the ground. We could've turned out worse," she throws out theatrically.
"She thinks we're co-habitating?" Jess asks warily.
"I think her actual hint used the phrase 'living in sin' but yeah."
"God, seriously?" He groans.
"Well what would you call this?" She gestures between the two of them and the rest of the apartment.
"For starters I would avoid any phrase that references a Bon Jovi song."
"I'm pretty sure that was inadvertent," she clips.
"Emily's not a Bon Jovi fan? Color me shocked."
"If we showed her that music video," she giggles, "she'd probably make me have dinner with Reverend Boatwright again."
"If you showed her that video she'd have me arrested and lock you in a tower. And Reverend who?"
"When they found out I was having sex, they made me have dinner with Reverend Boatwright," she explains.
"You're kidding," he deadpans.
"Nope. I got great a lecture about my feminine 'gifts.'" She sets down her wine glass with a smirk and moves so she's straddling his lap. "Sorry I already gave away my virtue, you don't mind getting a sweater for Christmas, right?"
He brings his hands to her waist, his thumbs running soft patterns along her side. "You gave away your virtue and all I get is a sweater?" He jokes. "I should at least get a 'My girlfriend had sex with Frankenstein and all I got was this lousy t-shirt' souvenir."
She smacks his arm playfully. "It was terrible sex if that counts for anything."
"Can that be one of those things that just I don't want to know about?"
"Sorry." Rory runs an affectionate hand along his jaw and into his hair. "How about we put a moratorium on Dean period?"
"Deal," he tilts his head up, sealing it with a kiss. "And I want a really nice sweater."
She laughs, maneuvering herself so she can fall into the couch onto her back, pulling him down with her.
It's after two in the morning when Gwen finally arrives at the trendy hotel Logan booked in Paris. Straightening her clothes, she climbs out of her cab, hands her bags over to the bellhop, and marches to the front desk, her heels clicking on the marble floors.
"I believe my husband is staying here," she informs the concierge in perfect French, handing over her passport. "The room should be under Logan Huntzberger."
The woman at the desk regards her suspiciously, as if she suspects she's some kind of high end call girl, or worse, a private investigator about to blow their privacy promises to pieces.
"Just a moment please," she tells her, picking up the phone and dialing a number. "Yes, I have a…" she answers in English, peering at Gwen's passport. "Guinevere Valerie at the front desk. She says she's…alright. Yes, I'll tell her. Thank you." She hangs up the phone, turning her attention back to Gwen. "Mr. McCray says you can come up." She looks around, snapping her fingers at the bellhop and indicating he should escort her upstairs.
"Thank you," Gwen replies, accepting her passport and tucking it back into her bag.
It takes Colin several minutes to open the door after they knock, his face jocular, but harried when he finally opens it. "Hi Gwen. Logan's not here, maybe it would be better if you got another ro—"
Gwen rolls her eyes, sticking her Louis Vuitton pump in the crack of the door, forcing him to keep it open. "Cut the crap Colin."
Colin's eyes flick to the bellhop and back to Gwen. "Fine. Have it your way." He opens the door wider, letting them into the suite.
"Where would you like your things Madame?" The bellhop asks.
Gwen crosses her arms, glancing around the untidy suite as she shrugs out of her coat. "You can just set them anywhere," she answers in French. "And could you ask them to send up a maid first thing in the morning?"
The bellhop sets her luggage next to the door. "Of course Madame. Is there anything else you require?"
Gwen shakes her head, noticing the light spilling from the bathroom door. She pulls a fifty Euro note from her handbag and hands it to the bellhop. "Just the maid service. Have a nice night."
The bellhop nods and takes the money shutting the door quietly behind him.
"I can't believe you didn't call me," Gwen hurls at Colin. She throws open the door to the bathroom, finding her husband kneeling over the sunken marble bathtub, vomiting.
She brushes past Finn and kicks off her shoes, coming to kneel next to Logan on the vomit-encrusted floor. "Are you okay?" She touches his clammy forehead anxiously. "Shouldn't he be in a hospital?" She demands over her shoulder.
"He's going to be fine," Finn assures her. "I've seen worse."
"How comforting," she grumbles sarcastically as Logan loses his balance and starts to lean on her.
"Logan, are you alright?" She asks worriedly, moving his weight off her. "Can you answer me?" She grabs one of his wrists, trying to measure his pulse.
He gags and vomits into the tub again.
"Rory?" He mumbles miserably when he finishes.
"And that's why we didn't call you," Colin mutters under his breath.
Gwen finishes checking his pulse, finding it in a normal range, and drops his wrist with a sigh.
"Are you kidding me?" She stands up, glaring at him. "Of all the things I'm concerned about right now, that doesn't even come close. What the hell were you thinking?"
Colin sighs. "Look I was just trying to do the best thing for—"
"The best thing for him was to harass his ex-girlfriend into flying to Paris?" She shrieks, so incensed Finn actually takes a step back. "Is that honestly what you're telling me right now?"
"How did you—?"
"The first chance she got, Rory went to Honor." Gwen gestures wildly. "She begged her to come deal with this so you would stop calling her."
"So where is Honor?"
"We had a conversation and we agreed she would stay in Connecticut with Vanessa and I would come here and deal with this."
"Look, Gwen. We were just trying to—"
Gwen glares at him icily, her hands on her hips. "I don't really care what you were trying to do, Colin. Why don't you two go to bed? I'll take it from here."
"Gwen—"
She shakes her head. "Don't you think you two have fucked this up enough?" She cocks her head towards Logan. "Look at him."
"We're trying, Gwen. His issues are worse than you think," Colin protests. "Do you think we like to see him like this? He got away from us and by the time we found him again he'd downed eight scotch and sodas."
"Well he's not going anywhere now, is he?" She holds open the bathroom door gesturing that they should go through it and Colin catches a whiff of her perfume.
All at once, it's senior year of Yale and he's standing in Logan's apartment laughing at Finn's attempt to play pool. A certain brunette is sitting on the edge of the table, watching their interaction curiously when Logan reaches around her for his drink.
"God, you smell incredible," he murmurs into her neck, kissing her behind the ear.
"Logan," Rory chides, half laughing, with a look at Colin and Finn.
Logan ignores her rebukes, continuing to nuzzle her. "Seriously, is that new perfume?"
She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. "It was on sale at Macy's."
Finn, of course, leans over and dramatically sniffs her hair. "You do smell good."
"Stop smelling my girlfriend," Logan admonishes.
"What are you going to do about it?" Finn challenges. "Fight me?"
Logan sets down his drink and picks up a pool cue. "I challenge you to a duel."
Finn raises his cue defiantly in response. "I accept."
"You're going to break those," Rory warns, her voice shaking with mirth as both boys chase each other around the room, knocking the cues against each other.
Colin leans against the table next to her, sipping his drink. "Your boyfriend is twelve."
"You're being generous Colin," she chimes. "I was thinking more like six."
"Well if you ever decide you'd like to date a grown man instead…" He jokes.
"Not gonna happen," she answers, laughing as Finn's pool cue breaks and he stands there, staring at the broken end in disbelief while Logan prods him with the other one.
Logan retches again, drawing Colin out of his reminiscences.
"Well the night is young and there's a blonde in Montmartre—" Finn starts.
"I don't need the details," Gwen interjects. "Just go."
Finn shrugs and moves past her. "Coming?" He asks Colin.
Colin looks at Logan, still bent over the tub, and Gwen, standing in the doorway with a murderous look on her face. "I'm gonna stick around here for a bit," Colin assures him. "I'll meet up with you later."
"Suit yourself." Finn straightens his jacket. "Do I have vomit on me?"
"I'd change," Gwen suggests curtly, turning her attention back to Logan.
A moment later a door slams shut behind Finn as he makes his way into another room of the suite.
"Is that new perfume?" Colin asks as soon as Finn is gone.
"What?"
"Did you change your perfume?" He repeats more clearly.
Her brow crinkles with befuddlement. "I bought it at Barney's last week. Why?"
"You should rethink it." Colin's eyes flick from Logan, back to Gwen.
"What?" She spits, filling a water glass by the sink and leaning over to hand it to Logan.
"Just trust me," he tells her vaguely.
"Logan, you need to hydrate," she urges, ignoring him.
"No more Ace," Logan groans, pouring it into the tub and throwing the cup on the floor.
Gwen bends down and picks it up, realization drawing on her.
"Colin are you saying I'm wearing the same—"
"Yep."
She sighs, filling the cup up with more water. "God, of all the bottles I could have picked up..."
"Ace?" Logan says again.
Gwen's patience snaps and she unceremoniously takes the glass and upends it over his head.
Logan groans, barely noticing the fact his head is now sopping wet.
"God fucking damn it, Logan." She leans over and gives his cheek a few gentle smacks, holding his face between her hands. "It's Gwen. Rory is not here. You can either drink the water or I'm making you go to the hospital where they'll shove a tube down your throat, pump your stomach, and hook you up to an IV. Is that what you want?"
"No," he mumbles childishly.
Gwen lets go of him and hands him the water again. "Drink." She demands.
Logan obediently takes the water.
"He's not sleeping with her," Colin adds quietly. "As far as I know anyways."
"Sleeping with who?" She asks distractedly, trying the dab the perfume off her wrists and neck with a washcloth.
"Rory."
She throws the washcloth in the sink, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I know he's not."
"You seem sure."
"I am sure. What I don't know is if he's sleeping with someone else."
"I don't…" Colin starts. "I can't violate any codes here because I honestly don't know."
Gwen blows out an even breath, shaking her head. "You should go to bed, Colin," she sighs.
"You sure?"
She nods curtly. "I think he's over the worst of it but I'll sit up with him just in case.
"I'll just be in the suite on the other side if you need anything." Colin raps once on the edge of the door. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," she answers.
On the floor, Logan is still resting his head on the edge of the tub, his breaths even. Gwen leans over to check his pulse again and sinks onto the floor, resting her head against the tiled wall.
A/N: Tried to balance the angsty drama with some light-ish Lit for you. Hope you all enjoyed it. More of Logan and Gwen, Christmas and some nice fluffy Star's Hollow shenanigans to come.
Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, favoriting!
